


Wedlock

by Valkyrien



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bersærkergang Is Not Just A Village Somewhere In Scandinavia, Don't Look Now It's Another Marriage-Centric AU, Frigga's C- Parenting - Now With Extra Credit, Fury Is Utterly Done With Asgard's Bullshit, Interstellar Political Machinations Galore, Loki Is A Stone Cold BAMF, M/M, Odin's A+ Parenting, Steve's Just Trying To Do What's Best, The Events Of Thor Occurred But With Several Minor Alterations
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-05-07
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:21:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valkyrien/pseuds/Valkyrien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In response to a jumbled mix of prompts set before me and a plea for me to take them on and make something of them, behold!</p><p>An AU wherein Thor is working with the Avengers on Earth both as a way of preparing himself for kingship but also as a means of improving diplomatic relationships between Asgard and Midgard. Celebrating a victory by throwing a feast for himself and Captain America in honour of their most recent successful partnership, Thor could not have anticipated the turn the evening would take when his comrade in arms and his little brother are found in a compromising position by Odin and Frigga, or that they would demand such a price of Earth - and of Loki - as redress in the name of Asgard's honour.</p><p>But is it truly out of care for Loki, or are there deeper machinations at work?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fire Cannot Burn It; Iron, I Know, Cannot Bite It

**Author's Note:**

> In response to a jumbled mix of prompts set before me and a plea for me to take them on and make something of them, behold!

 

 

 

   Asgard is truly spectacular, Steve thinks as another flagon of something he can’t even begin to try to pronounce is thrust into his hand and Thor roars with laughter over the din of the assembled, but the Asgardians themselves are the impressive thing.

 

 

   Or rather, their ability to consume untold quantities of food and drink while making more noise than a full barracks of soldiers brawling. Steve wouldn’t have thought, judging by how they’re all packing it away, that they’d be able to keep sluicing back the victuals _and_ making such a racket, but at this point he wouldn’t be too surprised to learn that they as a species have evolved two separate pipes, one for eating and one for yelling and telling loud, off-colour tales _while_ eating.

 

 

   Frankly, if it wasn’t for the constant stream of liquor Steve has been plied with all night, he would be finding it all a little hard to tolerate, but as it is, he’s quite drunk and willing to overlook the little things, like feeling as if he’s going partially deaf due to the clamour, the ache that’s settled across his shoulders from the barrage of good-natured slaps he’s enduring from all sides courtesy of Thor’s companions and Thor himself, and the fact that no one here is availing themselves of any cutlery bar the odd knife meaning that Steve’s uniform now has partial handprints in gravy and grease across it at various points where he’s been slapped and jostled and grasped at.

 

 

   If Tony were here, he’d probably be sneaking samples of all the liquids being shared to recreate them back home, or commenting on how this gathering and indeed the hall it’s being held in is probably what the inside of Thor’s head looks like on most days minus a few gambolling kittens.

 

 

   Tony’s not here, though. None of the others are. Steve was invited specially, as a reward for aiding Thor in a matter involving another realm they became stranded in, and some truly hideous creatures who chased them through a swamp.

 

 

   It means Steve’s the only Midgardian here, and a curiosity, but it also means that in trying to keep pace with Thor, Steve’s finding himself a touch overwhelmed by it all, and finally he feels the need to slip away and get some air.

 

 

   He hasn’t been drunk in longer than he can remember, and he never really had much of a taste for the state – something he’s remembering now as his legs wobble underneath him and he makes his way from the hall to a series of corridors he has no memory of.

 

 

   He vaguely thinks he came in from the other side, and, mapping it out in his head from the brief directions Thor tossed around earlier, suspects he might be best served by taking a left.

 

 

   It’s just more corridors but at least the noise is subsiding somewhat the further away Steve gets, and he doesn’t have to go that far to be tempted by a hint of a breeze, which he follows to a large, open courtyard full of gorgeously foreign vegetation.

 

 

   “Have you lost your way?” a silky voice inquires, and Steve almost stumbles over his own feet turning in the direction it came from.

 

 

   He’s never seen such eyes, so green, so sharp, and set in such a face...

 

 

   _Slender, tall_ , Steve thinks, _slipping through the heaving crowd, dark and slight and disparate_.

 

 

   Then Thor, saying something through the worsening blur that the evening has become in Steve’s mind, an offhanded comment, someone who was there or whom he had expected to see, expected to be there to greet them...

 

 

   Steve shakes his head to clear it and staggers slightly, only for long, pale fingers to clasp his wrist –

 

 

   and although they’re steadying him, the contact tilts Steve’s world on its axis, reinvents gravity as a pull drawing him in towards this creature, and he barely notices that he’s being manoeuvred to sit somewhere because he’s falling headfirst into those eyes and there _is_ nothing else –

 

 

   except his own voice, saying,

 

 

   “I think I’m right where I’m supposed to be...”

 

 

   Then there’s nothing.

 

 

   That is to say, there’s _something_ – _there **has** to be_ – but it’s all so vague and far away that Steve can’t grasp much of it beyond a dim sense that there was a brief conversation, and a name, and then there’s simply bliss.

 

 

   It’s not an ethereal, detached sort of bliss though. It’s very much an up-close-and-personal awareness of how good it is to have this other person pressed against Steve – in his lap, in fact – and kissing him with a fervour only matched by Steve’s own.

 

 

   He’s not sure why it’s happening – or even if it’s actually happening and not some delusion conjured by the copious amounts of drink he’s imbibed over the course of the evening’s celebrations – only that it seems the only right and appropriate thing to be doing.

 

 

   It’s even somehow more than that – Steve almost feels as if he’d be doing something wrong by letting go or pulling away, which doesn’t even seem to be a decision that’s within his control to make –

 

 

   but someone makes it; someone makes it when Steve’s fingers are snarled in hair as black as a raven’s wing and softer than he understands the possibility of, when the mouth over his is the sweetest thing he’s ever felt in his life –

 

 

   and breaking apart is painful, somehow, and accompanied by an outraged shout and a far more highly pitched cry of fury that quells it, and then Steve knows no more.

 

 

 


	2. If You're Having Memory Problems, I Feel Bad For You, Son. I've Got 99 Problems, But - No, Actually, Wait, Yours Seems To Have A Distinct Bearing On Them All. We Should Probably Address That.

 

 

 

   Steve remembers hangovers, but this is more like waking up after having a building implode around his skull, and he wonders whether that could be the explanation because he has no idea where he is and no memory of where he has been.

 

 

   He quickly gives up on speculation when he realises he can feel his heartbeat throbbing in his eyes and has to concentrate on just breathing as carefully as possible so as not to trigger the nausea lurking behind that sensation.

 

 

   “Captain, are you with us?” a voice asks, and Steve wishes it would just disappear.

 

 

   Steve is not available for anything but lying here and wishing he felt better right now.

 

 

   “Captain, it’s a matter of some urgency.”

 

 

   Well damn it to hell, can’t a guy recuperate from – from _whatever_ this is – in peace?

 

 

   Steve makes a token effort at speech in order to get this across, but quickly establishes that keeping his mouth shut is the best course of action.

 

 

   “Good Lord, what did you give him?” the voice demands, but apparently not of Steve, since a contrite, rumbling voice replies,

 

 

   “I did not think it would so affect him – he drank less than I.”

 

 

   “Yes, well, according to my sources you had a little help in recovering. That option is not open to Captain Rogers at present,” the first voice informs present company, the tone berating.

 

 

   “I could send for my – ”

 

 

   “Absolutely not. That won’t be of any help to any of us right now, least of all the Captain. No,” the first voice cuts across the hopeful second in a very definite sort of way.

 

 

   Steve wishes they’d all go elsewhere if they’re going to argue and talk about him like he’s not there anyway. It’s not exactly making it simpler to concentrate on not retching.

 

 

   “How long does it take the effects to wear off usually – when you haven’t had help?”

 

 

   “The better part of a day’s rest. I would advise he purges himself of any remnants and attempt to swallow a little water.”

 

 

   “Right, well let’s get him up, then,” the first voice suggests, making it sound more like an order, and the second hems and haws a little before tentatively offering,

 

 

   “Do you not think it would be simpler if I asked my brother to attend? We might facilitate a solution to all this more easily if both parties could meet under better circumstances to discuss the matter.”

 

 

   “No. Fury’s forbidden it until he’s had a chance to try and straighten this out, and from the looks of it that’s proving to be a long and painful process. We’ll just have to make do.”

 

 

   Making do, as Steve quickly finds out, apparently consists of helping him lurch to his feet – eyes tightly shut – and transporting him a few steps to what is likely a bathroom of sorts, only to essentially point him at what his pained eyes hazily make out to be a large gold basin and let him heave the contents of his stomach into it for what feels like the better part of an hour.

 

 

   When finally it seems there’s nothing left in him, he’s hauled to his feet once more – by what he now recognises as a Thor with uncharacteristic lines of worry on his face – and pushed under a stream of cold water that’s a lot like taking a shower except he’s pretty sure he’s still wearing trousers and the temperature as well as the amount of water rushing over him has the effect of waking up his nervous system to absolutely everything he’s feeling as well as kick-starting the abating of his vicious headache.

 

 

   Eventually, he’s steady enough to stand on his own and wash his mouth out, and at length Thor drags him from under the water, albeit gently, and hands him a towel.

 

 

   Steve’s first question as he’s blotting his face is, of course,

 

 

   “What happened last night?”

 

 

   His own voice hurts, both to hear and to use, and he immediately clamps his eyes shut and sways in place a little as he swallows against the nausea welling up anew.

 

 

   “My friend,” Thor rumbles, a good deal more quietly than usual,

 

 

   “Truly you remember nothing?”

 

 

   Steve utters a vague sound which he hopes Thor will take as an affirmative on the lack of memory front.

 

 

   “We are yet in Asgard,” Thor says slowly, as if hesitant to go any further with the conversation,

 

 

   “I believe it would be wiser if the son of Coul speaks to you of last night in my place.”

 

 

   Taking Steve’s elbow, Thor leads him back to bed, where Steve gratefully slumps on his side, room spinning.

 

 

   He can see Agent Coulson now, standing by the door.

 

 

   “Captain, how are we feeling?” the agent asks in a placidly cheery sort of manner, and Steve just looks at him dully.

 

 

   “Right, of course. It would seem Asgardian spirits are a little more hard-hitting than anticipated. Thor neglected to mention this might be the case,” Coulson goes on.

 

 

   Personally, Steve thinks that’s totally untrue. Thor spends a lot of time regaling them all with stories of his drunken exploits back home, or exploits followed by drunkenness. If something can floor Thor, chances are, it packs a hefty punch.

 

 

   “There was... how can I put this delicately...” Agent Coulson begins, folding his hands in front of him and frowning,

 

 

   “There was an incident, last night. Involving you and ah, a member of the Royal Family. Am I to understand you remember nothing at all?”

 

 

   Steve glances at Thor – God, even moving his eyes hurts – for a moment. Thor looks deeply uneasy, shifty, almost. It’s unsettling.

 

 

   “No. What happened?” Steve rasps, and Agent Coulson raises his eyebrows and keeps his gaze on the floor.

 

 

   “Well, it would appear that during last night’s festivities, for whatever reason, you strayed from the feasting hall and somehow wound up trespassing on the Queen’s private garden...” he enunciates as if it pains him to relay this information, and then, meeting Steve’s eyes, continues,

 

 

   “...and upon the Queen’s second son.”

 

 

   “I would not have you tell it so – it demeans both my brother and my friend!” Thor protests, stepping forward and kneeling so that he is in Steve’s sightline. It’s unlike Thor to bother with such things, but Steve’s not really giving that a lot of thought.

 

 

   He’s kind of still stuck on what the hell is meant by ‘ _trespassing_ ’ in this instance.

 

 

   “Loki insists that there is no more to it than a handful of traded drunken kisses between you – you must not think that either of you have committed any crime,” Thor insists urgently,

 

 

   “I cannot understand why our mother and father are making so much of it when Loki assures us all that no wrongdoing has taken place. I would not have you think that you acted without honour – I do not think you capable of such and Loki has satisfied me that you did not do so!”

 

 

   It’s not very reassuring to Steve. In fact, he fights the swell of pain surging through his head and props himself up until he’s sitting, glancing from a sincere Thor to a concerned Agent Coulson.

 

 

   “Hold on – ” he says, raising a hand,

 

 

   “Just – just _hold on_ a minute. _What_ are they saying I did?”

 

 

   Thor sits back on his heels and sighs.

 

 

   “The All-Father claims to have been walking in my Mother’s garden at her side, and to have discovered you... _embracing_ my brother. Most ardently. The two of you were not so easily parted. Great offence has been taken and they are unwilling to heed my brother’s insistence that it was nothing so grave as they believe,” he explains, and Steve gapes at him.

 

 

   “ _What?_ ”

 

 

   **_I would remember that_** , he thinks desperately, trying to sift through the mess of _nothing_ that is yesterday and last night in his memory and find something to disprove this ridiculous allegation.

 

 

   “That’s not possible,” he hears himself aver, and Agent Coulson clears his throat.

 

 

   “It certainly puts us in a very difficult position,” he says carefully,

 

 

   “Both Odin and Frigga claim to have seen the same thing, and the protestations of the Prince regarding the seriousness of the matter are being overridden. Thor brought me here last night almost immediately after he was summoned to defend you by his parents. He was only able to leave you after threatening to forswear the throne should they imprison you for your alleged crimes, and I’m told the Prince similarly threatened some drastic course of action if you were not spared the indignity of a cell. The Director is conferring with Odin and Frigga as we speak, but Prince Loki has been confined to his rooms and it’s only due to Thor’s insistence that you’re not in chains.”

 

 

   “Loki threatened to abscond with myself and you to Midgard if he was not heard on the subject of your remaining free at least until I could return with Director Fury and the son of Coul,” Thor divulges.

 

 

   “That’s... It’s... I can’t have done that,” Steve breathes,

 

 

   “It has to be a mistake.”

 

 

   Thor grimaces.

 

 

   “My brother holds that you had both partaken of our spirits and that the embrace itself was of no consequence – he claims the All-Father and our mother are greatly exaggerating the severity of the event and accuses them of lying to suit some end not visible to us. It was for that insult he was ordered confined to his chambers until further notice,” he explains, and Steve tries to take it all in, to understand, to _remember, damn it_ –

 

 

   “I don’t – maybe I _did_ kiss him – if I was so drunk I can’t remember anything from yesterday, maybe it’s possible the kiss happened,” Steve allows, rubbing his hands across his face and breathing deeply,

 

 

   “But I can’t believe I would – that _we_ would – I don’t even _know_ your brother!”

 

 

   Thor nods as if in sympathy and lays a heavy hand upon Steve’s knee.

 

 

   “I know this,” he replies seriously,

 

 

   “And I know my brother. Our father’s reaction to this event troubles him and I do not believe he tells a lie when he claims it was nothing. What I do not know – what I do not _understand_ – is why the All-Father has taken such offence. Loki is not betrothed, nor have our mother and father ever intimated that he is barred from seeking out what company he wishes. He ought have been free to do this without issue or fear of consequence.”

 

 

   “Odin is very unhappy about all this. There’s a great deal of talk about how you’ve compromised his son’s honour. Last night he initially demanded a blood price to redress the balance, so to speak,” Coulson says, to which Thor immediately adds,

 

 

   “I argued against this course. My brother is a prince of Asgard – the price paid would have been too great. I could not allow it.”

 

 

   “What do they want?” Steve demands, head reeling, feeling sick now with guilt and shame and lack of understanding.

 

 

   **_How did this happen?_**

 

 

   “That’s what the Director is attempting to ascertain,” Coulson replies stoutly,

 

 

   “I’m sure we can find some way of clearing up this unfortunate misunderstanding.”

 

 

   Steve searches Thor’s face for any hint of faith that this is possible, but Thor is frowning blackly at the floor and this more than anything convinces Steve that they’re in a far deeper hole than they think they are.

 

 

   “Thor – by your laws, do they have a right to interpret it this way if your brother denies anything serious happened?” he asks, forcing a little steel into his voice.

 

 

   “The All-Father cannot be questioned. His judgment is absolute. By our laws, any question of Loki’s honour must be settled by our father. I am sad to say that Loki’s voice carries little weight. Our mother, too, insists a price must be paid for this slight against her son,” Thor replies gloomily.

 

 

   Steve leans forward, hands over his face.

 

 

   “Oh, _God_... This can’t be happening. Why are they doing this?”

 

 

   “My friend, if I knew, I would tell you so that we might resolve this,” Thor says earnestly.

 

 

   “Obviously the Director’s not going to let them imprison or harm you,” Coulson adds firmly.

 

 

   “And I do not believe our father would so court my displeasure or my brother’s wrath by insisting upon either path,” Thor continues, a sliver of hope finding its way back into his face.

 

 

   “If your brother’s feelings on the matter carry no weight, how are they any good to us?” Coulson asks, and a rueful smile blossoms on Thor’s lips.

 

 

   “I know of no one whose displays of temper when denied a say in matters pertaining to his own self carry quite so much _weight_ as Loki’s,” he admits, sounding almost grudgingly proud.

 

 

   “I doubt a temper tantrum is going to be much use,” Coulson opines, and Thor shrugs, clasping his hands together.

 

 

   “My brother’s most recent truly severe fit of pique almost led to the destruction of another realm and the complete breakdown of all diplomatic relations between Asgard and Vanaheimr. I would think our father and mother yet recall it with enough clarity to hesitate in provoking my brother to such an extent,” he offers.

 

 

   “That in itself makes a convincing argument for your innocence, Captain. Surely even drunk Prince Loki would have had no qualms defending his own honour should he have felt it was being in any way compromised,” Agent Coulson muses aloud.

 

 

   “Loki was swift to point this out himself,” Thor shares,

 

 

   “The All-Father was unmoved by it.”

 

 

   “Then we must hope that the Director is making some headway. Captain, there’s a fresh uniform on the table, expect to be summoned in due course,” Agent Coulson says, leaving the room. Thor rises as well, and turns to face the door.

 

 

   “I regret this event, my friend,” he says honestly,

 

 

   “I will do what is in my power to shield you.”

 

 

   “Thor... I swear I don’t remember any of this, but... Your brother. Is he alright?” Steve has to ask, and Thor turns, smiling crookedly.

 

 

   “He is well. Furious, but well. He bears you no ill will for the kisses themselves – it was a shared act – and he is in agreement with myself that this cannot be allowed to impact either of you negatively. You have done no wrong,” he replies gently.

 

 

   Steve closes his eyes and sighs.

 

 

   “Well... that’s something.”

 

 

   “It is no bad thing to be allied with Loki in this. I am satisfied a solution will be found,” Thor states, steadfast and solidly assured of himself, and Steve nods, trying for a smile.

 

 

   He’s quite sure he just looks weary and haggard.

 

 

   “Thanks, Thor,” he manages, and Thor bows his head.

 

 

   “I will leave you to dress.”

 

 

   Before he steps over the threshold he pauses and adds,

 

 

   “Do not despair, Steve Rogers.”

 

 

   Steve wishes he could follow that advice.

 

 

  


	3. Well This Isn't Exactly A Cluster Of Stars

 

 

 

   Agent Coulson returns within the hour, grim-faced and tight-lipped, and Steve follows him through halls he does not recognise to a room where Director Fury himself is standing by a tall window, watching whatever’s going on below.

 

 

   “Sir,” Steve acknowledges, and Fury turns, single eye narrowed. Agent Coulson slips from the room unobtrusively, just quick enough not to catch Fury’s opening statement of,

 

 

   “You know, I expect this kind of stunt from Stark by now – that’s why he doesn’t get to go on these little trips – but _you?_ ”

 

 

   The angry disappointment makes Steve wince, but of course Fury’s not done.

 

 

   “How the hell did this happen? Do you have any idea what you’ve done? I have an interstellar clusterfuck on my hands because you couldn’t keep yours to yourself! I’ve got a whole parade of angry Norse Gods on my ass here, so you’d better have a damn good excuse for this shit!”

 

 

   Steve doesn’t have a good excuse. In fact, he has what he’s always considered the lamest excuse in the book as his only defence.

 

 

   “Sir, I’m sorry. I was drunk, and I had no idea that was Thor’s brother – I don’t even remember what happened!”

 

 

   As expected, Fury is neither impressed nor placated by this flimsy explanation.

 

 

   “Well, it looks like you fucked up, doesn’t it? Now how do you suppose we fix this?” he demands, and Steve shifts a little on his feet.

 

 

   “It’s clearly all a misunderstanding,” he says firmly,

 

 

   “I’m sure if I just explain – apologise to them – they’ll have to understand. I mean, these things _happen_ , we didn’t do anything really _wrong_ – ”

 

 

   “Thor’s mother would disagree with you, Captain, and if I never again have to hear someone screaming at me across the universe that you’ve defiled their kid, it’ll be too soon. They want you to take responsibility – ”

 

 

   “Sure, of course – ”

 

 

   “ – and marry the boy.”

 

 

   It’s so ridiculous that for a second Steve doesn’t think he heard Fury correctly. It would have been hard not to, what with the booming disapproval and all, but – but this –

 

 

   “ _Marry him?_ For a _kiss_?”

 

 

   Fury nods, for the first time looking less angry and more weary than anything else.

 

 

   “Apparently it’s that or pay a blood fine for dishonouring Thor’s entire family,” he confirms, and Steve stares at him blankly.

 

 

   “That’s... And Thor’s okay with this? With marrying his brother off to someone he’s only met once? How does _he_ feel about it?”

 

 

   “You can ask him,” Fury says heavily,

 

 

   “Thor’s bringing his brother here so you can discuss how to handle this while Coulson and I draft a damage control plan.”

 

 

   “I...”

 

 

   There’s nothing to say.

 

 

   There’s no way out.

 

 

   If there was, Fury would have said so, would have presented other options.

 

 

   **_How can there not be a way around this?_**

 

 

   “I’m sorry, Rogers,” the Director utters with grave finality, leaving Steve standing there with nothing but his tumultuous thoughts and the sensation of being utterly trapped.

 

 

   He has no time to order his feelings or try and regain any balance, for Thor enters, shadowed by a tall, imperious figure, whose manner of moving seems to scream malcontent and thinly restrained violence.

 

 

   “My friend,” Thor greets, approaching to clasp Steve’s shoulder, regret in his eyes,

 

 

   “It pains me to have this happen.” Releasing Steve, he steps aside and, in a disbelieving sort of tone, adds,

 

 

   “Truly, you do not remember my brother?”

 

 

   “No, I...”

 

 

   **_I can’t believe I don’t_** , Steve thinks, and it’s true in more ways than one.

 

 

   Loki is about as dissimilar to Thor as it is possible to get.

 

 

   He’s pale and dark-haired and fey, leaner and lither than anyone Steve has yet seen here in Asgard.

 

 

   It’s not as if he lacks solidity – there’s an undeniable underlying menace of power to him and an air of strength that Steve wouldn’t like to test – it’s only that in comparison to Thor, it’s clear that they are shaped by and for _very_ different things.

 

 

   Focusing solely on Loki – which is hard not to do, far harder than Steve thinks it should be – the strength in his shoulders and the way he carries himself is obvious. Steve wouldn’t like to know how often he’s been severely underestimated because people have made the mistake of allowing themselves to be fooled by how Thor’s overwhelming physical presence seems to drown out the warning signs of Loki’s quieter, subtler aspect.

 

 

   To Steve, though – whether because he’s used to Thor by now, or because Loki is the very core of the predicament they all find themselves in – Loki is magnetic. There’s something very oddly beguiling about him that Steve can’t explain away with sensible things like ‘we’re in this together’ or ‘I can’t believe I kissed this guy’.

 

 

   It’s more like Steve can’t believe he doesn’t remember Loki, as if the very idea is preposterous no matter the alcohol involved.

 

 

   “He remembers nothing, Thor. He reeks of seiðr as if drenched in it, though,” Loki states coldly, and Thor gazes blankly at his brother as if he’s never seen him before.

 

 

   “From you?” he asks bluntly, and Loki treats him to a particularly withering look.

 

 

   “What’s seiðr?” Steve asks, tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar word, and Thor shrugs.

 

 

   “You would call it magic. It is that which binds the worlds together,” he says in the way he has of stating something by way of trying to explain but ultimately knowing he can’t convert the concept into words Steve and the others can understand.

 

 

   “Thor speaks of that which he barely tolerates and does not comprehend,” Loki snaps, although he seems to be directing it entirely at his brother instead of just making an observation, and Thor winces.

 

 

   “Peace, Loki – I claim no knowledge of those arts and never have. I do not seek to overreach myself,” he says soothingly, and then asks,

 

 

   “What manner of magic clings to the Captain?”

 

 

   “I cannot tell you. It is not of my working. It could be only due to the nature of him – Midgard is drained of much that it once held. Any Midgardian who enters another realm could conceivably attract a measure of magic; their inherent poverty would invite it,” Loki outlines, and Thor frowns as if even this little sliver of theory is starting to give him a tension headache.

 

 

   “You can sense nothing more from it?” he asks hopefully, and Loki’s eyes narrow.

 

 

   “I can only observe and speculate. But I distrust it,” he states, and Thor’s eyebrows rise.

 

 

   “Loki, you must not speak of those accusations again,” he cautions quickly, and Loki’s eyes glitter.

 

 

   “If you cannot bear the truth, then I will keep it from you, but I intend to share it with your friend. You may wish to leave. I would not want you to feel burdened by the facts,” he says cuttingly.

 

 

   Thor’s face goes stony and he squares his shoulders.

 

 

   “Very well. I will be outside. Try not to destroy anything,” he replies harshly, striding from the room and brushing past his brother, whom Steve is intrigued to see moves to avoid touching him.

 

 

   “Captain,” Loki addresses him directly, tone cool and impersonal, and Steve suddenly feels very wrong-footed indeed.

 

 

   Without the distraction of Thor, it’s hard not to be affected by Loki, who is every inch the Prince Thor is in word and deed, only in a far more comprehensive way.

 

 

   He’s also very beautiful, and while Thor is larger than life and has a definite warmth and draw to him, Loki is purely otherworldly and looks designed for haughty distance.

 

 

   For the first time, Steve fully realises that he’s in this mess because he _kissed_ the young man standing before him.

 

 

   In all honesty, while he can imagine perhaps _wanting_ to while in an inebriated state, he can’t imagine going through with it, or it being met with any kind of acceptance. The idea that Steve and Loki were both equally invested in the endeavour, and – as Thor insists is the case – were difficult to separate, just seems laughably unimaginable.

 

 

   Steve has to struggle for words, not because he feels ashamed, although he does, but because just looking at Loki makes him feel out of place and light-headed , and he knows he’s flushing when he realises he’s openly gawking.

 

 

   “Your highness,” he says awkwardly, and Loki raises an eyebrow.

 

 

   “Really? You would stand on ceremony even after having had your tongue in my mouth not a full day past?” he asks, an oddly flat sort of amusement lacing the words, and then he waves a hand and says,

 

 

   “But of course, you do not recall the particulars. For all intents and purposes, this may as well be our first meeting.”

 

 

   Steve’s really not sure what to do with this dry, slightly barbed commentary.

 

 

   “I... I’m aware I acted wrongly and disrespectfully, and I’m ashamed of myself for letting that happen. I allowed my judgment to be impaired, and I insulted you and your family. I can’t apologise enough for that,” he says earnestly, but the self-possessed look on Loki’s face has given way to fury and he bares his teeth as if he’d dearly like to launch himself at Steve and tear out his organs one by one.

 

 

   “Is that so? Well, I suppose you are aware that we are here to discuss how to resolve this shameful affair,” he replies, voice devoid of feeling,

 

 

   “My family demands that we marry.”

 

 

   “Is that what you want?” Steve finds himself asking – stupidly, he feels, even before Loki’s expression distorts into disbelieving contempt.

 

 

   “To be married off to a mortal I am barely acquainted with? Don’t be absurd!” he exclaims, and then, in a far darker tone,

 

 

   “I am not being given a choice. It is either this, or for you to pay a fine in blood, and Thor has spoken against that most vehemently.”

 

 

   Steve can’t even begin to address how it sounds on the surface of things as though Loki would rather see whatever amount of blood his family are demanding for this taken out of Steve than marry him to prevent that happening.

 

 

   Instead, he chooses to focus on the aspect of this which most overwhelms him; namely, the unfairness of it.

 

 

   “But I – I can’t marry you just like that! It’s not fair to either of us!”

 

 

   “That does not appear to be a concern of the All-Father’s,” Loki states harshly, though his venom seems to be all for his father’s decision rather than for Steve as the other party in this.

 

 

   “Nor does empty sentiment enter into this in any way. My feelings on the matter are of no consequence to the All-Father’s decision. I am expected to comply with his chosen course of action whether I wish it or no,” he continues, and Steve sees a flicker of utter disgust in Loki’s eyes.

 

 

   “But how can he do that to you? I mean, I get that he doesn’t care about me, but you’re his _son_. Why would he ask you to do this if you don’t want to?” Steve asks, the concept deeply unfathomable to him, and Loki seems to draw back into himself briefly before replying.

 

 

   “I do not understand what his purpose is in doing this. I only recognise that he has one and that this is indeed all of his design,” he says softly, eyes and voice suddenly sharpening as he utters,

 

 

   “The All-Father is a scheming old bastard who delights in manipulating others to suit his personal goals. I do not doubt that he is in part responsible for what occurred between us and I do not doubt that he stands firm in his decision that we marry for reasons which have nothing whatsoever to do with my family’s honour. If that were an issue Thor would have been married before he was ever of age! He has done far worse with those of far greater importance than you.”

 

 

   That stings, a little, but far more interesting, far more important is how certain Loki seems that his father is somehow orchestrating all of this in pursuit of some unknown goal not clear to the rest of them.

 

 

   “You think your father is forcing this through because he wants something out of it?” Steve asks, not entirely sure whether he’s allowed to say anything of the kind even phrased as a question, and Loki nods.

 

 

   “I do. Were this merely a question of you being where you should not have been, another solution would have been found. My mother’s garden is a sacred space, but entering it is not such a grave offence – certainly not if it is done by accident. The issue of the kiss ought not to matter at all, and even were that in question, it should only take my word that it was a passing whim and nothing in seriousness to be dismissed. This blatant overreaction – this uncharacteristic concern for my personal habits – I do not trust it,” he states firmly.

 

 

   “Are you sure there’s no way out of it?” Steve inquires, hoping at this point against hope that Loki might have found something to counter their predicament.

 

 

   “A marriage is a formal legal contract, here. Matches are brokered according to politics more often than not, and shared love between the involved parties is not a given prerequisite. Weddings represent allegiances and exist to form such and to regulate society and prevent the burden of illegitimate children by enforcing their claims to familial bonds and ensuring their sires accept responsibility for them. As with any contract, there are rules,” Loki lays out, and Steve nods.

 

 

   “Is there anything at all in the rules that prohibits this marriage going ahead?” he asks, and Loki grimaces.

 

 

   “By law, my allegiance is to my family. A marriage can be brokered for me by my father with impunity. All that could stand in his way is the possibility of the match he has chosen for me refusing to enter into the contract to marry me, and the fact that it is widely known and accepted that marriages where one party or both protest vigorously to the match inevitably end poorly,” he explains.

 

 

   “Well, we’re both protesting,” Steve points out.

 

 

   “It does not matter in our case. He has enough leverage to force your superiors into agreeing to this course of action, and he has taken care to ensure that it is understood that he will only accept one other price to redress the balance of honour, and Thor has spoken against that option. Once the All-Father has negotiated terms with your superiors, the contract will be sealed before witnesses, and by Asgardian law, we will be bound by it,” Loki tells him, looking very much as if he’d like to find whoever made these rules and throttle them.

 

 

   “And then what?”

 

 

   “In my case, I will outlive you, but you can take little comfort in that. Divorce is thankfully an option.”

 

 

   This is the first time Steve’s given that any thought at all, but now it seems both promising and an ideal solution.

 

 

   “So we could go through with it, and then ask for a divorce immediately?”

 

 

   The look on Loki’s face steals some of the enthusiasm Steve has for the plan.

 

 

   “It is not that simple. There are certain situations wherein one can state a desire to divorce one’s spouse, and they are clearly outlined in law. I doubt you would find any of them appealing,” he says quietly,

 

 

   “It is also usual for the families involved to assert great pressure over both parties to remain wedded in the event the match was solely arranged as an alliance. Do you not think my family will stipulate that they will not accept your price paid unless you remain wedded to me for an appropriate amount of time? It would be pointless to go through with it only to ask to divorce mere days later and be told it is possible but that you will have to pay some other price to have fully satisfied my family’s wishes.”

 

 

   He has a point.

 

 

   “How long do you think they’ll want us to stay together? If there really is no other way?” Steve asks heavily, and Loki shrugs.

 

 

   “However long it takes for the All-Father’s machinations to come to fruition to the point where the marriage is no longer vital to his concerns. Since I do not know what his goal is, I cannot say how long achieving it would require.”

 

 

   Steve suddenly feels very ill, and apparently it’s perfectly obvious, because Loki steps forward, saying,

 

 

   “Of course, I forgot, you must still be feeling the affects. I had to intervene in Thor’s case, I did not think to ask whether you were still unwell.”

 

 

   He reaches out a hand and snags Steve’s right wrist, pressing his thumb to Steve’s pulse. A soft green light ebbs into Steve’s skin from the point of contact, and it’s as if waves of gentle, cool wellbeing are washing through him with each new beat of his heart.

 

 

   It’s truly amazing.

 

 

   Steve’s not really paying attention to that, though, because Loki’s standing right in front of him, very, very close, and there’s something in his eyes that swallows Steve’s very sense of self and draws him in, and it’s like falling, only he vaguely registers that his hand is resting on Loki’s leather-clad arm, and Loki’s eyes cloud briefly and then slowly flutter closed, and Steve can see it all because he’s close enough to almost count Loki’s eyelashes –

 

 

   Until Loki wrenches away as though he’s been burnt and takes several steps back, eyes wide and frightened, and Steve has no idea what to say except,

 

 

   “I’m sorry! I don’t know what – ”

 

 

   “No,” Loki cuts across, voice shaking,

 

 

   “No, you did nothing. It was only – you must be susceptible. Seiðr touches everyone differently. I had not expected...”

 

 

   He seems to gather himself somewhat, and compose his tone, but his eyes remain wild and very vivid.

 

 

   “Do you feel different?” he inquires, and Steve takes stock of himself, although it’s like rediscovering his body and it feels as though something’s _missing_...

 

 

   “I don’t feel sick anymore,” he reports, and Loki nods absently.

 

 

   “Good. I must go. Have Thor bring you water – he is fit for little else at this stage – and you will be fully recovered within the hour,” he murmurs, as if he’s not aware he’s not bothering to project his words properly, stepping back even as he speaks, and Steve suddenly doesn’t want him to bolt and disappear.

 

 

   He feels rather as if he’s done something awful to Loki and that he shouldn’t let him leave.

 

 

  “Loki – I – ”

 

 

   _There’s nothing to say._

 

 

   “I’m sorry.”

 

 

   Loki’s eyes clear and he looks dreadfully sad.

 

 

   “As am I.”

 

 

   He doesn’t leave by way of the door, instead, he literally disappears, vanishing into thin air as if he never existed.

 

 

   Thor enters a handful of seconds later, watching Steve carefully.

 

 

   “Your brother – he vanished,” Steve says, quite shocked, and Thor nods.

 

 

   “One of his many gifts. Come, you look ill. We must feed you before we speak further.”

 

 

   Steve allows himself to be led away, but seeking nourishment is the furthest thing from his mind.

 

 

   Instead, all he can seem to focus on is how truly sorry the pale prince looked in the moment before he faded away.

 

 

  


	4. I Need To Know Everything You Know, And Everything You're Trying Not To Know That You Know

 

 

 

   It would seem that nothing – not even recent events – can dent Thor’s appetite, but while he’s eating, Steve is rather listlessly following Loki’s advice and sticking to water, stomach still clenched in residual or perhaps merely remembered nausea and very present apprehension.

 

 

   He doesn’t notice Thor observing him until he’s being directly addressed.

 

 

   “What did you think of my brother?” he asks, the open curiosity so characteristic of Thor pleasantly familiar to a Steve who currently feels uprooted and uneasy.

 

 

   “I...” Steve pauses, unsure of what to say.

 

 

   He really has no idea what he thinks of Loki, beyond a conflicted tangle of emotions and surface observations.

 

 

   Ultimately, Loki strikes Steve as an incredibly intelligent, volatile person whose only reason for not simply breaking into peals of laughter, telling Odin where he can stick all of this, and escaping to some other realm until it all blows over – or Steve dies of natural causes, Loki seemed to feel the time involved in waiting that out would be negligible to him – is a deep sense of duty to his family and country.

 

 

   Steve has to respect that, and in a way, he does understand why Loki is fighting this so hard. He clearly values his independence highly, and it’s not difficult to fathom to what extent his sense of personal autonomy must feel helplessly stifled by this undeniable demonstration of how little say he has in what happens to him.

 

 

   It’s also hard not to recognise that he harbours some very serious issues in regard to his father – ‘ _daddy-issues_ ’, Tony would call them, nodding knowingly and not unsympathetically – and Steve thinks it must be rough to so quickly go to ‘my father’s using me’ even without valid evidence to support the reaction.

 

 

   Steve can’t really imagine what it’s like to distrust a parent like that, and personally he’s more inclined towards Odin and Frigga truly being outraged and insulted by having their youngest taken advantage of. It just doesn’t make sense to him that Thor’s parents – whom Thor speaks so highly of and whose general wisdom and lovingness he so relies on and praises – would make this decision for purely selfish reasons.

 

 

   Honour is clearly a highly valued commodity in Asgard, and Thor has certainly given them all a fairly good picture of how vital reputation and honour is, particularly for those of royal blood.

 

 

   If all this is in the name of Thor’s family’s honour, couldn’t it be that it’s partially meant both to restore Loki’s name as well as that of his family, and perhaps also punish him a little for disregarding it?

 

 

   It could explain why Loki’s opinion is being blatantly disregarded, although that doesn’t sit right with Steve no matter the reasoning behind it.

 

 

   However, Loki himself said that Thor has done far more drastic things with far more important people without it ever being an issue for the family, so why Odin and Frigga would choose to make an example of Loki’s behaviour is baffling to Steve.

 

 

   He’s really having a hard time reconciling the image of a loving family which Thor insists to be the truth with what’s going on here, and he can’t quite shake the idea that Loki may well be right and that all this may well be part of some great overhanging agenda of Odin’s.

 

 

   “He seemed very... complicated,” Steve settles on finally, and Thor frowns.

 

 

   “Yes...” he agrees,

 

 

   “That is one way of putting it.”

 

 

   “It’s understandable that he’s angry about all this,” Steve adds quickly, not wanting to give Thor the impression that he didn’t like Loki at all,

 

 

   “I’m really not too happy about it either.”

 

 

   “Were Loki not so opposed to the match, I might not look favourably on you for the sentiment, but as it stands,” Thor heaves a great sigh and despondently swallows a mouthful of something rich-smelling and roasted,

 

 

   “I am of the same mind the both of you are. I cannot see why my father so easily disregards our ways and forces you into this.”

 

 

   “Loki said that kind of marriage – where one or both people really don’t want to be married to each other – he said they always end badly and that can stop them going ahead,” Steve mentions, and Thor nods, chewing thoughtfully.

 

 

   “That is so. There is no shortage of tales of weddings taking place contrary to the will of those who are to be wed ending in despair and violence,” he reveals,

 

 

   “It is considered bad luck to force a match that is so unwanted by those involved.”

 

 

   “Well that makes sense. You can’t build a good marriage if everyone in it is unhappy and wishes they weren’t part of it,” Steve says sensibly,

 

 

   “We discussed the option of divorce. Loki doesn’t think it’s going to be available to us immediately, but it’s something.”

 

 

   “My mother will not like that,” Thor states,

 

 

   “Marriage is her province. For her to give away any child of her own to be wed is a great gift. It would take much for any plea for divorce to be heard in those circumstances.”

 

 

   He looks briefly very uncomfortable, and then continues,

 

 

   “You must understand, my friend, that marriage among Asgardians is not undertaken lightly. It represents the alliance of families, and the question of suitability is often one of political background. For my brother and I, that is doubly so. No marriage could be considered that does not benefit the family first and foremost. It is of no importance that neither you nor Loki feel anything for one another. Loki’s duty is to Asgard and to our family. If my father negotiates a match for him, he has no choice but to honour the contract.”

 

 

   “Yeah... Loki sort of covered that,” Steve says dully.

 

 

   “One thing does puzzle me,” Thor rumbles,

 

 

   “And I mean you no insult when I say this, but for a prince of Asgard to be given in marriage to a mortal – a Midgardian – is a very strange choice. It would not be considered fitting or suitable unless your standing in Midgard were unquestionably one of great power and influence, but...” he looks a little sheepish and apologetic, but Steve waves it away.

 

 

   “We pretty much covered that, too. I’m just a glorified government employee – a soldier. It doesn’t seem like Loki would gain a whole lot by marrying me. I don’t think all the back-pay I’m owed could ever go even a little way towards keeping him in the lifestyle he’s accustomed to,” he says flatly, and Thor nods, seemingly relieved.

 

 

   “Then you know how odd a choice you are in our eyes. A soldier, however great, is not equal in worth politically to a prince. It gives me cause to wonder what further prices will be paid.”

 

 

   “Further prices?” Steve asks, appalled that anything more could be asked of either of them at this point, and Thor nods grimly.

 

 

   “This will bear no resemblance to a Midgardian wedding contract. Firstly, it must be established which of you will be leaving their home and joining the other to begin the wedded life together,” he says seriously, and Steve blinks.

 

 

   “Well... I just assumed... I mean, I can’t just _leave_ Earth. I can’t live here!”

 

 

   Thor nods,

 

 

   “That is so. You are needed on Midgard. However, I fear my mother will not easily part with Loki. She may wish him to remain here. I know it pains her that I am so often away – to lose another child, and to a marriage...” he trails off with a grimace and then adds,

 

 

   “It is an obligation Loki would be harshly bound by. He would not be free to visit Asgard often.”

 

 

   “Well if she doesn’t like it, maybe she should call it off,” Steve says tartly, very short on patience and sympathy at this stage, and then continues,

 

 

   “Anyway, if we get married and Loki moves to Earth, he can visit here anytime he wants. No one’s going to stop him.”

 

 

   Thor’s smile is warm but a touch pitying, and he shakes his head.

 

 

   “It is not so simple, my friend. Should it be negotiated that Loki must follow you to Midgard, your family would have to pay a price to compensate my family for his loss to the new life he would begin with you. You would be cast in the role of the groom. On Asgard, it is a groom’s responsibility to purchase right of legal guardianship and protection from his bride’s father or other male kinsman, who hold it by law until she is wed. The price paid must be equal to her value as it acts as compensation to her family and household who are losing her to the marriage. It is called the bruðkaup, or bride-price. Do you understand?”

 

 

   “So... because Loki would be leaving here, that automatically makes him the bride, even though he’s a man?” Steve asks, deeply confused, and Thor nods.

 

 

   “For the purposes of the later negotiations, yes. Should it be decided that you must leave Midgard instead, your roles would be reversed. I only attempt to explain our ways as best I can – it is not so usual for couples to be wed who are both men, thus the letter of the law remains unaltered; the one who leaves their family adheres to the rules laid down for the bride.”

 

 

   It makes an odd kind of sense, and Steve struggles valiantly to advance the conversation and not allow himself to get stuck on details. Right now, he needs a big-picture view of what to expect and what could happen.

 

 

   “I don’t have a family, who’d negotiate for me?” he asks, and Thor shrugs.

 

 

   “Your closest kin. Have you none, the duty would fall to the head of your household, or those to whom you have sworn your allegiance. In this instance, I believe Director Fury and the son of Coul are acting for you, and this is not considered so strange. We are a warrior society. Even those who no longer have blood relations living among us may still enter into marriage, but for a first marriage it is improper to negotiate for oneself. Better to rely on those you trust most or who are responsible for you in your everyday life. They will know how best to present you to the family of a prospective match,” he replies.

 

 

   “Okay... Okay, that makes sense. Well, the Director’s not going to let me move to Asgard. That’s just not going to happen,” Steve thinks aloud.

 

 

   “In that case, it would fall to the Director to negotiate with the All-Father. Traditionally when one seeks to establish a match, it is usual to bring men of power, prestige or wealth to speak on one’s behalf. If the match is brokered between families, the party who suggested the match would wish to show the other part that the potential alliance would be gainful. It is also a way for the suitor to show that he has numerous allies of importance to sponsor him, to induce the bride’s family to accept the suit. You need not worry over such things, for the match has been demanded of you, and therefore it only remains for those who represent you to negotiate the terms of the contract and act as witnesses to it, not whether a match should take place,” Thor reveals, and Steve nods.

 

 

   “Okay. What goes into negotiating terms, then? Presumably what kind of bride-price we need to cough up to get your family to let Loki come to Earth so I don’t have to come here?” he asks.

 

 

   “Indeed,” Thor agrees,

 

 

   “That will be a vital part of the matter. The bruðkaup consists of three parts. It is expected of the groom to provide the mundr, which is considered the bride-price proper. It pays for the right of legal guardianship and protection over your spouse to be passed to you. It would be equal to a dowry.”

 

 

   “So... Wait a minute – so _that’s_ why it’s such a big deal that Loki would be coming to live with us on Earth? That’s why he wouldn’t be allowed to leave? Because I’ve basically _bought_ him?” Steve demands, horrified, and Thor bites his lip and nods grudgingly.

 

 

   “It might be viewed as such, yes. When the mundr has been paid, the legal rights to Loki pass to you. If you consider that at present this right belongs to the All-Father...” he begins, and Steve stares at him in shock.

 

 

   “So because your father essentially _owns_ Loki right now, if I’m going to marry him I have to _buy_ the right to that ownership and I...”

 

 

   **_I’ll own Loki the way his father owns him now._**

 

 

   Steve is both disgusted by the very notion and appalled at the thread of warped anticipation that curls through his consciousness at the thought of Loki _belonging_ to Steve.

 

 

   _Loki_ , powerful, beautiful, fiercely independent, _an actual real-life prince_...

 

 

   Steve shudders in horror and cuts himself off before he can even really form the thought.

 

 

   “That’s sick,” he says firmly,

 

 

   “That’s completely, _utterly_ sick. Loki’s a person. He has rights. You can’t just _own_ a person.”

 

 

   “It is not ownership,” Thor counters with equal firmness,

 

 

   “It is responsibility. It is _duty_. You buy the right to take over legal guardianship from our father not only to compensate us for Loki’s loss but equally, perhaps even more vitally, because it is a _privilege_ and that is why a gift must be given that answers to the value of Loki _as a person_.”

 

 

   “You can twist it any way you want, it comes down to the same thing; Loki would belong to me legally and that’s why his freedom of movement would be restricted - because once I’ve paid for him, he’s more my problem than yours!” Steve flings back, outraged on Loki’s behalf, and for the first time fully understanding just how little real choice Loki ever had in all this.

 

 

   No wonder he feels caged and unfairly treated – that’s exactly what he is.

 

 

   “You do not understand,” Thor insists, the hard light of impending thunder gathering behind his eyes,

 

 

   “I told you this would bear no resemblance to a Midgardian wedding contract. You are gravely mistaken if you believe that you pay for the right to own my brother completely. You pay for the duty of care to pass to you – you pay for the right to live by his side, to expect his loyalty to you – you pay for the privilege of protecting him should he ever require protection! That is the burden which passes to you – the privilege of caring for my brother in equal measure to the care you would take for yourself, and even more so!”

 

 

   “I’d do that anyway just because he’s your brother – I shouldn’t need to prove that I’d do that if we were married by paying your family to believe me, that’s just common sense!” Steve shouts.

 

 

   “It is not so if those who are to be wed did not choose one another! Then it is not common sense! Precautions must be taken! That is why in the event of a mutual divorce the husband takes back the bride-price, but if _he_ requests the divorce, his spouse receives the bride-price, the dowry, the morning-gift, and a third of all common property! It is to protect the one who plays the part of bride, so that a husband cannot so easily cast aside his spouse!” Thor returns angrily.

 

 

   “Dowry? Morning-gift?” Steve demands, shocked, and Thor nods once, face hard and eyes flaring.

 

 

   “The dowry is the heiman fylgia, equal in value to the bride price. It is given by the family of the bride to accompany her from her home into her new life, representing her portion of her father’s inheritance. It is to be administered by the husband but only to the benefit of the wife and any children – it cannot be squandered by him, nor can it be used to repay his debts. It exists to maintain the wife during the marriage, or to sustain her in the event of widowhood. The morning-gift is the morgen-gifu – a gift given by the groom to his bride after the consummation of their union. It is solely hers and can be paid in the form of land or estates, or belongings. All of this is negotiated in front of witnesses when the match is brokered, to ensure that both parties enter into the marriage protected by law and with the means to build a home together or leave the marriage with something should it not last,” he lays down.

 

 

   “When the All-Father wed my mother, he gave to her all the land of Asgard, as well as untold quantities of gold as a morning-gift. This has never been surpassed. I cannot say what will be expected of you by way of these three payments in return for Loki’s hand, but you must cast aside Midgardian notions of fairness and you must see that we must hold to our ways, whatever you may think of them, and that the laws do not strip either of you of your rights, nor do they allow either of you to exercise your unlimited will over the other.”

 

 

   Steve can’t see that.

 

 

   To his mind, it’s unspeakably barbaric, not to mention extortionate. He’s beginning to see why Loki suspects his father of acting for his own personal gain, even though Steve has no idea what he or indeed Earth could possibly have that Odin could consider worth doing all this simply to gain access to or ownership of.

 

 

   Something equal in value to Loki’s perceived worth in the eyes of his family – Steve has nothing like that. Nothing that could buy him a prince of Asgard. Even if he had, what could there possibly be left over to fulfil the other payments that Thor seems to think might be demanded of him should these proceedings follow Asgardian custom and law to the letter?

 

 

   “There’s nothing I can give your father that’ll make up the worth of Loki to you, even if I did accept that it’s possible to _buy_ another person,” Steve says finally,

 

 

   “And there’s nothing I could give Loki that’d be worth anything to him. Are you sure they’re not just going to decide that and ask for my head on a plate instead?”

 

 

   “Loki thinks it is not what you can give personally, but what your superiors may be willing to barter in exchange for your life and freedom,” Thor answers, seeming to deflate a little.

 

 

   “I thought you didn’t like Loki’s ideas,” Steve comments, still feeling needled and annoyed by Thor’s earlier attitude.

 

 

   For all Thor is forever talking about how much he loves his family and his brother, he seems awfully quick to dismiss Loki’s take on things and awfully slow to defend his brother’s freedom in the face of Odin’s high-handedness.

 

 

   Thor’s mouth twists in displeasure and the furrow of his frown deepens until it could almost be an old scar.

 

 

   “I may disagree with my brother and yet discuss with you what he has doubtless already shared,” he replies sullenly.

 

 

   “Well then for the sake of argument, let’s say Loki’s got the right end of the stick here. What do we have on Earth that Odin might want?” Steve asks pointedly, and Thor’s gaze becomes shifty.

 

 

   “Midgard is home to so little of value – it is why we of Asgard have not concerned ourselves with it for so long. I can think of nothing the All-Father might wish to gain from a union between yourself and my brother other than to restore my family’s honour in this unfortunate matter,” he says stubbornly, sounding rather as if he’s reciting someone else’s points.

 

 

   “Fine. If you say so. I just figured if anyone would know, it’d be you. You’re the one who’s going to be King someday,” Steve remarks, intrigued to see a flash of concern flitting over Thor’s features.

 

 

   “I trust in the All-Father’s words. If he holds to his reasons for making this decision, I do not question them,” Thor says heavily, with all the weight of a phrase oft repeated.

 

 

   “Okay. He’s your father – if you trust him, I won’t ask you not to,” Steve tells him,

 

 

   “I guess if there’s something he wants, he might ask for it as one of those payments we have to make. If Loki comes to Earth.”

 

 

   “It is possible,” Thor replies hesitantly,

 

 

   “I will know once the negotiations regarding whether the two of you are to leave or you are to stay are over. Once they are concluded, if Loki is to join us in Midgard, I will be a part of the brokering of the prices.”

 

 

   The idea is jarring and wrong to Steve, and he feels a need to clarify,

 

 

   “So you’d be helping decide what to sell your brother for?”

 

 

   The storm gathers anew in Thor’s face and the tension returns to his shoulders, but his tone is very carefully controlled when he says,

 

 

   “I would have you cease this insistence that my brother would be bartered away like cattle. You have no true understanding of our customs and I know they must seem strange to you, but this is for the good of my brother’s name and the honour of my family. I ask that you do not speak of it again as if it were a tawdry bargain struck in some house of ill repute.”

 

 

   Steve stares him down unflinchingly. This is probably the last place or time for this discussion of the merits of Asgardian customs versus the issue of human rights as understood by a mortal from Earth who lived through the last World War, but that doesn’t mean Steve is willing to back down on his personal standards or turn his back on his morals and pretend to be okay with the way this is going down.

 

 

   This must reflect in his demeanour, for suddenly Thor seems to slump into himself, and he rubs a large, calloused hand roughly over his face with a great sigh.

 

 

   “Forgive me, my friend,” he pleads wearily,

 

 

   “I am too quick to take offence and forget that it is not so easy to ignore one’s own ways and history. You are Midgardian. There is much I value about your people, and I know you to be a man of courage and conviction. I should not expect you to abandon your beliefs. This matter weighs greatly on my shoulders. I wish only the best possible outcome for you and my brother. I love you both – I would not see either of you unhappy for any price.”

 

 

   Steve rises, unsure of where he’s going or what he’s really feeling beyond a slow-burning sort of anger.

 

 

   He suddenly just needs to get away.

 

 

   “It’s a good thing you’re not the one who’ll be paying, then,” he says curtly, turning on his heel and marching off.

 

 

   It’s weirdly satisfying not to have allowed Thor to have the last, booming word for once.  

 

 

  


	5. My Enemy's Youngest Least-Loved Son's Unwilling Betrothed Is My Friend

 

 

 

   The palace is vast, and Steve has no idea of even the general layout, but no one he passes in the corridors or sees in the halls tries to speak to him or intercept him, so he wanders at will, angry and irritated and wishing there was a way to fix all this.

 

 

   Eventually, he reaches an impressive set of doors, wrought with runes Steve’s pretty sure he’d need a lifetime to learn how to read, and beyond them is a library the likes of which Steve has never seen before.

 

 

   The first thing that strikes him, beyond the sheer size and splendour of the place, is the familiar smell of old books and paper, and the comfort it brings seems incongruous here, in another world where such an ordinarily familiar thing surely doesn’t belong.

 

 

   There doesn’t at first seem to be any sound here, other than paper settling, but then Steve picks up an undercurrent of something that could almost be song, except it is very soft and Steve thinks he can hear two sources, as if the sounds were part of a conversation.

 

 

   Intrigued, and a little desperate for something to take his mind off his current situation, he trails the sounds, and finally he comes upon two tall, shining, richly-dressed figures with hair the colour of ripened wheat-fields blazing in late afternoon sunlight, bending over a tome covered in incomprehensible writings.

 

 

   This close, their mournful, songlike whisperings do appear to be a shared discourse, and Steve surmises that they are speaking to one another. He thinks it might be a pleasant thing to listen to were it not for the tones of sorrow and urgency.

 

 

   He doesn’t want to intrude, and he doesn’t even know if he’s allowed to be in here, or whether these two strangers will be disposed to treat him unkindly once they realise who he is, but at the same time he badly wants to speak to someone totally outside his current situation even if it’s no more than a few words, and he needs to take his mind off the conversation he just had.

 

 

   So Steve clears his throat, and the murmurings stop as the two beings turn as one, in towards one another, and regard him with wide, intent eyes.

 

 

   Steve knows there are other ‘realms’ by now, and he knows that Asgard is responsible or at least has _made_ itself responsible for overseeing them, so it stands to reason that eventually, one would meet people from said other realms in Asgard even without looking for them, but although Steve is quite certain that these two creatures are not Asgardian, he couldn’t make even a wild guess as to their actual origins. All he can do is observe that they are not like any Asgardians Steve has yet seen or met, and assume that they must be as foreign to Asgard as Steve is himself.

 

 

   What they are is something Steve might describe as fey or elfin if they didn’t have such strong presences. There’s nothing wispy or insubstantial about either of them, and they are humanoid – full complements of fingers, two eyes and one nose apiece – they just seem otherworldly in a different way than Steve has come to associate with Asgard and its people.

 

 

   Really, he thinks to himself, Loki looks more like these two than he does Thor in terms of general build and bearing, although there are no other definable similarities.

 

 

   They’re both beautiful, in a slightly strange way that Steve can best describe as a general sense that their loveliness is not meant for Midgardian consumption and an odd sensation that they are both of a similar nature that isn’t rooted in anything Steve could contain or quantify but which is connected to something deep and vast and all-encompassing.

 

 

   They appear on the surface of things to be a man and a woman, although Steve knows better by now than to just assume that it’s that simple.

 

 

   The man is tall and broad-shouldered and seems to radiate an abiding, grounded power that is almost steadying to be near. His skin is bronzed in a way that makes Steve think of long days labouring out of doors, and his eyes are an intriguing blend of green with vibrant, light-catching earth-tones around the outer rim of the iris.

 

 

   The woman is almost unbearably lovely, with a face the likes of which it would be impossible to forget, but Steve somehow knows that if he ever tried to recreate it with pencil and paper, there’d be no way to properly get it down. Her eyes are a luminous silvered blue, kind and soft in contrast to the beguiling curve of her lips, and if her companion’s aura is that of soothing strength, hers is an undeniable allure tinged with comfort. Everything about her is radiant, from her skin to the gold of her unbelievably thick, lustrous hair which is purer than even the hue of the palace walls.

 

 

   “Excuse me,” Steve says as politely as he can, already regretting his decision to interrupt them at all despite their open, unbiased expressions,

 

 

   “I’m not sure I’m supposed to be in here and I didn’t mean to be rude, but – but it’s been a long day, and...”

 

 

   He really has no idea where he’s going with it or what he’s meant to do about that, but while he’s speaking, the woman’s eyes soften into compassionate understanding and she reaches out un-adorned hands and gently draws Steve into an embrace he finds himself completely unable to resist.

 

 

   For a moment, he finds it both absurd and a little frightening how easily and willingly he allowed himself to be drawn close to the tall, lissom form of this completely unknown individual and cradled to her as though he’s a child, and then...

 

 

   It’s as if Steve _is_ a child again.

 

 

   His body suddenly does not feel like the strong, powerful, improved form he inhabits since the super-soldier treatment – instead he feels small and soft-limbed and easily damaged, like the little boy he once was who’d go running to his mother to be bundled into her arms and shielded from the world for a little while until he felt strong enough to face it again, and although a part of him remains aware that he is being held by a tall female alien draped in silken fabrics, for a moment the arms soothing a line down the length of his back enabling him to breathe easy again and the chest he can feel beneath his cheek are his mother’s, and Steve has never felt safer or more loved.

 

 

   It’s an immensely surreal experience, but at the same time it is deeply moving, and Steve feels that he is being given a gift that is cleansing some long-ignored part of him and leaving something warm and good behind that he will always carry from now on and will always be able to call upon when he needs it again.

 

 

   When he’s released, although he knows he’s been standing on his own two feet all this time, it’s like being set down and reconnecting with the ground, like sliding off the safety of his mother’s lap and standing for himself again, and as the woman draws away, Steve’s eyes are blurred with tears that for a brief second betray him and replace the beauty of her features with his mother’s remembered loving smile.

 

 

   There is a faint mark of tears on the folds of her gown above where her heart would be if she were human, and Steve would apologise for it if he didn’t somehow know that she would smile and laugh and tell him nothing has ever mattered less, dear boy.

 

 

   “We know you,” she says softly, and Steve thinks he’s hearing and understanding it because she wants him to, not because she’s necessarily speaking English to him.

 

 

   “You are welcome here, champion,” her companion adds, voice rich and providing the same feeling that Steve is only able to hear the words as English because the speaker wills it so.

 

 

   “That’s really kind of you, and I don’t mean to disagree, but I’m no champion,” Steve protests,

 

 

   “I’m in a lot of trouble.”

 

 

   The woman utters a cooing sound and tilts her head a little, like some glorious songbird.

 

 

   “Champion of your people, whose colours you bear so proudly,” the man says, an encouraging edge to his tone, and the woman adds,

 

 

   “Champion of the weak and those denied,” like it’s a gentle reminder to Steve of what he is that he can take heart from.

 

 

   “Maybe before,” Steve allows,

 

 

   “But I haven’t been doing such a great job of that lately. Hence the trouble I’m in.”

 

 

   “That trouble was not of your construction,” the man rumbles, and the woman places a hand on his arm as if to halt him there although he continues,

 

 

   “It does not diminish you.”

 

 

   “We see who you are, champion. How look we to your eyes?” the woman asks sweetly, and Steve frowns.

 

 

   “I don’t know,” he says honestly, a little startled by the way this is going,

 

 

   “I – I don’t think you’re Asgardians.”

 

 

   They look pleased, but somehow very sad as well, and the man replies,

 

 

   “We are Vanir – of Vanaheimr.”

 

 

   “Hostages,” the woman supplies, although without bitterness, and her companion nods and adds,

 

 

   “Captives of the House of Odin after the Æsir-Vanir War.”

 

 

   “Midgard recalls us still, though you may know nothing of us,” the woman says,

 

 

   “Njörðr’s children, Freyr and Freyja.”

 

 

   Steve’s memory is jolted by the names, and he thinks he recalls hearing about them somewhere, but he doesn’t want to assume or give offence, so he just says,

 

 

   “I couldn’t be sure – Thor says a lot of what we know about Asgard is wrong.”

 

 

   “Hmm, that is so. We are not remembered in our entirety,” the woman allows, and the man says,

 

 

   “My sister was once worshipped as a goddess of love and beauty, I as a god of all that is earthly; that which lives and grows and is fertile.”

 

 

   “We are more than the tales told of us, and yet less,” his sister adds –Freyja, she must be – and Steve shrugs.

 

 

   “I think that goes for pretty much everyone. I’m made out to be this big hero on Earth, but underneath the uniform I’m still just a kid from Brooklyn. There’s more to most people than what they do.”

 

 

   His words seem to somewhat amuse them both, and Freyja leans forward a little, peering into his face closely.

 

 

   “You are betrothed to our Trickster Prince,” she declares, as if it’s escaped Steve’s notice somehow,

 

 

   “And yet I cannot recognise the seiðr which clings to you.”

 

 

   “No, Loki noticed that, too. Apparently Midgardians attract it because there isn’t much of it back home. I’m sorry – do you – is it common knowledge? That I’m meant to be marrying him?” Steve asks, feeling quite unsettled by the thought, and Freyr smiles.

 

 

   “Much that is not yet known to most is known to us,” he says, as if to reassure Steve, and then adds a little wryly,

 

 

   “Though we cannot claim to know such things as does Loki. Even the All-Father must exert himself to keep anything over-long from his youngest.”

 

 

   “Seems to me he keeps more than enough secrets from his kids,” Steve comments, a sliver of anger colouring his words, and Freyja makes another soft sound, as if slightly dismayed.

 

 

   “You are against this union,” she says sadly,

 

 

   “Is that why you remain unaffected, when your kind has long proven easily seduced by us?”

 

 

   “I don’t understand,” Steve says slowly, frowning, and Freyr replies, almost as if he’s offering condolences,

 

 

   “Your heart is full of another, I see it. Were it not, our presence would affect you.”

 

 

   “It cannot be the Prince who so occupies you,” Freyja murmurs,

 

 

   “And yet...”

 

 

   “I don’t really even _know_ Loki,” Steve is quick to insist,

 

 

   “This whole thing is a misunderstanding – we’re being forced into this, neither one of us wants it.”

 

 

   He’s not really sure he’s meant to be telling anyone that, but hell, it’s not like he’s been told not to, and these two seem to know a lot more about what’s going on than they should, so who cares if Steve fills them in on some bits they might not be aware of?

 

 

   At this point, Steve doesn’t really care whether he makes life a little difficult for those who preside over the lofty court at Asgard.

 

 

   “Forced?” Freyr asks swiftly, as his sister recoils with an offended hiss, and Steve nods.

 

 

   “We did not believe – that it was unexpected – too fast, yes – but we had not thought...”

 

 

   Freyr places a comforting hand on Freyja’s arm to still her and explains,

 

 

   “We had believed that offence had been taken for your _courtship_ of Loki; that this was the reason for the swiftness of your betrothal, the secrecy. We had not contemplated that you might be both wholly unwilling in the matter.”

 

 

   “I suspected,” Freyja divulges, voice shocked and solemn,

 

 

   “I sensed the shadow of another’s hand in this. I felt that this offence could not be merely for the crime of an unseemly courtship, that there must be some other reason for the darkness that has hung over Asgard since you were discovered in the Queen’s garden...”

 

 

   Her eyes grow sharp and angry as she demands,

 

 

   “You did not seek to court the Prince without the All-Father’s knowledge and approval. Loki dallied with you – nothing more. Is that not so?”

 

 

   Steve’s really not sure whether she’s angry with him for having somehow misled them or if she’s angry with Odin for making such a big deal of it – perhaps Vanir standards are different in these matters? – but he doesn’t want to make a bad situation worse or to alienate these two who have so far been fairly accommodating in a way he’s grown to learn not to expect from Agardians, so he just falls back on his main instinct and tells the truth.

 

 

   “I was drunk. I left Thor and the others to get some air, and apparently I ended up in a garden I wasn’t meant to be in, kissing Loki. I don’t remember any of it. Odin and Frigga found us, and decided I’d compromised everyone’s honour. Thor insisted they couldn’t demand a blood price for what I did, so instead they want me to marry Loki to balance things out again on the honour front. Neither one of us is happy about it – it was just a _kiss_ , for God’s sake – but that’s how it is. Loki’s pretty sure it’s got nothing to do with honour and that Odin’s got other reasons for pushing this, but I just... I don’t know...”

 

 

   Steve spreads his hands and sighs, exhausted by the whole ridiculous tale.

 

 

   “Odin has ever had his own reasons for all that he does, and none of them what he has claimed them to be,” Freyr murmurs, and Freyja nods.

 

 

   “We had thought that you had paid unseemly court to Loki – that it was this which compromised you both and hastened this unforeseen betrothal. A Prince of Asgard to wed a mortal of Midgard... It is not done. We had thought that perhaps it was allowed to lend your circumstance some legitimacy – after all, a mortal life is nothing to that of an Asgardian. The marriage could be ignored as though it had never been once Loki was widowed. This...” she shakes her beautiful head mournfully.

 

 

   “To insist upon such a union when no bonds exist between you – to insist that grievous offence has been given in this matter when all that has passed between you are a handful of kisses... The Prince has the right of it. Odin has chosen to concern himself overmuch with his youngest son’s doings too late for us not to suspect that he chooses to do so for some private reason to which we are not privy,” Freyr says, a note of repulsion echoing in his words.

 

 

   “To think, that Frigga would agree to use her youngest to fulfil some end of Odin’s in this ghastly way...” Freyja says, eyes betraying agitation,

 

 

   “It is abhorrent!”

 

 

   “The ways of Asgard are not the ways of the Vanir,” Freyr tells her gently, as though reminding her,

 

 

   “They do not see a marriage for what it truly is, and this allows them these machinations.”

 

 

   “But Loki – to bind him in this way – Freyr, this will poison him, it is too cruel,” Freyja cries, clutching her brother’s arm, and Steve blinks in surprise.

 

 

   “What do you mean?” he asks urgently, a little Captain America authority shoring up his tone, and Freyr places a soothing hand over his sister’s and returns his attention to Steve, eyes sorrowful.

 

 

   “Asgard is not a place that values those in whom seiðr dwells – those for whom seiðr is as much part of them as their life-blood. It is considered an ill curse to live with, and for those who are born to it, it is best never to wield it lest they be cast out. Children born with the gift are rare, here. It has been smothered by intolerance and lack of understanding, for all Odin possesses the gift and uses it to his advantage. Loki was born to it,” he explains cheerlessly,

 

 

   “Born to it in such a way that it could not be repressed in him, could not be ignored. A gift such as his should never be squandered, and in Loki the power seemed only to grow, undeniable. There are none who have given themselves to seiðr as he has, none other in all the Realms as gifted as he. Loki has worked tirelessly to develop his mastery over this great gift he was born to, and yet among his own people, he is ridiculed for it, and seen as a lesser son of a great line.”

 

 

   “The Vanir understand,” Freyja says passionately,

 

 

   “We know that all who are born to us are linked in some small way to seiðr. There is no shame in it – it feeds our Realm, we exist peaceably in its embrace. Asgard seeks to deny its importance, to deny their links to it, but it lives in them, too. It exists here, among them.”

 

 

   “Thor said it’s what the worlds are made of, but I still don’t understand what this has to do with what you said – how will this poison Loki?” Steve demands, and Freyja’s eyes shine with tears.

 

 

   “A true bond between two beings is a thing blessed – it strengthens both and weaves them together. A match made between one blessed with seiðr and another is doubly blessed. The one who carries the gift will be even more strongly bound to their beloved; it will strengthen their gift as well as the bond they share. It will sustain them,” she lays out, and Freyr nods solemnly.

 

 

   “A forced pairing between one who is blessed with seiðr and any other will lead to hatred and resentment. Those whose lives are bound to seiðr more closely than most are more attached to their fate, and to that which sustains the life of the Realms. To deny them a true match, or worse, to force them into a life beside one whom they cannot love is to deny the power in them  - to warp it. Seiðr, in those born to it, is intrinsically linked to the feelings of the one who wields it, and they are in turn connected to that which binds the Realms,” he elaborates.

 

 

   “It is partly for this reason that Asgard has little love for it, nor for those who wield it. They call it a weakness, a woman’s art. They fear it for they do not understand it. Most know that if the flow of it is interrupted, or if one who is born to it feels too deeply or too darkly, it can cause the wielder and anyone who is touched by it to go mad,” Freyja says bitterly.

 

 

   “If Loki is not reconciled to this match – if he opposes it as you do – this will fester within him. His mastery of seiðr is unsurpassed by any we know, but I doubt that even he could turn from the paths this would set him upon. It will poison him, over time, until he is a shadow of himself, and all for the sake of Odin’s politics,” Freyr says, sad and regretful.

 

 

   “I don’t believe that,” Steve declares with absolute surety,

 

 

   “I don’t believe it for a moment. Loki’s not going to go mad just because we’re in a bad situation – we’ll find a way to deal with it, and if we have to, we’ll get by. This doesn’t have to ruin his life.”

 

 

   “You know so little,” Freyja murmurs gently,

 

 

   “Yet you are so certain. That was ever the draw of your kind.”

 

 

   Steve can’t help thinking that’s just a nice way of telling him that it’s adorable how hard Midgardians try despite their laughable ignorance in comparison to the populace of the other Realms, but he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he sets his face into stubborn lines and says,

 

 

   “It doesn’t look like we can fight this, so there’s no point fretting over that. All we can do is make the best of it, and we will. Loki’s smart enough to realise that, and even if we can’t get a divorce, I’ll die practically before Loki’s had a chance to get sick of me. I’m in a dangerous line of work, he might even get lucky and I might not be around as long as I could be. Either way, I’m sure going to do my best to see that it’s a painless experience for both of us. No one’s going to lose their mind over this except maybe Coulson. I gather all this is going to end in a whole lot of paperwork, that tends to put him on the edge.”

 

 

   Freyr and Freyja listen in identically calm, observant manners, and when he is done speaking, they break into identical, amused, tender smiles.

 

 

   “You truly are champion of all,” Freyr says, sounding quite tickled by the idea, and Freyja sighs.

 

 

   “If the Prince must be forced to wed, they might have chosen far worse,” she allows, reaching out and caressing Steve’s face almost lovingly.

 

 

   “You will have two allies at least, here at court, should you require them,” Freyr adds, and Steve frowns.

 

 

   “Will you get in trouble for this? I wouldn’t want that,” he says cautiously, and Freyja draws herself up to her full and considerable height and rather haughtily states,

 

 

   “Hostages we may be, but Odin would do well not to dismiss the children of Njörðr. There is no punishment that might be visited upon us for speaking to you, and should we speak for you, there is very little he might do to silence us.”

 

 

   “Perhaps he ought be reminded of the last wedding he attempted to orchestrate,” Freyr murmurs, and Freyja’s face lights up in glee.

 

 

   “Oh, yes!” she agrees, a breathless utterance of mischievous anticipation.

 

 

   “Would... this have anything to do with... Well, Thor mentioned something about Loki and there being some diplomatic issues between Asgard and – and where you two are from,” Steve mentions, hesitant to bring it up in case it triggers a poor response, but the siblings share a darkly amused look and nod.

 

 

   “You may ask Loki about the debt to him which we have yet to repay,” Freyr reveals teasingly,

 

 

   “For now, it must suffice that we return his betrothed to him.”

 

 

   “I don’t know about that,” Steve says, unsure where the melancholy tone that’s suddenly behind his words came from,

 

 

   “I saw him earlier and he couldn’t get away from me fast enough. Vanished into thin air.”

 

 

   Freyr motions for Steve to follow he and his sister, and moves through the shelves the way Steve came, saying in a comforting voice as he goes,

 

 

   “I cannot think he meant you to feel that you had done him wrong. Things rarely go easy for our Prince, and this is harder than much else that has been done.”

 

 

   Freyja merely places her hand on Steve’s arm as if they’re out for a stroll and he’s escorting her, and very softly says,

 

 

   “Perhaps your heart is not so full as to exclude all but one.”

 

 

   That is not so much comforting as it is confusing, but Steve doesn’t say anything.

 

 

   Instead, he wonders with some disquiet what other things have been done to Loki that he is not aware of, and whether perhaps the Vanir flanking him are basing their fears for Loki’s continued mental health on previous unhappy experiences.

 

 

   So caught up in worry is he, that he does not take heed of the route they are employing.

 

 

   He also does not know why they are stopping in front of what looks to him like an unadorned golden wall, until Freyja places a finger over her lips to indicate he remain silent, and Freyr places his own finger lightly against the wall, rendering it clear as glass and allowing it to reveal something which Steve at first cannot completely understand.

 

 

   "What - " he begins to ask, but Freyja shakes her head and motions him to watch what is unfolding in front of him instead.

 

 

   It's then that Steve realises he can hear what is being said.

 

 

   From then, it's very difficult indeed to keep quiet.

 

 

  


	6. To Purchase A Prince For A Pauper With Only A Pittance To Pay

 

 

 

   Through the wall-made-glass, Steve can see Fury, facing Odin and Frigga across an ornate table.

 

 

   It doesn’t look like a throne room – too small, for one thing – and Steve briefly wonders whether this is perhaps the Asgardian royal palace equivalent of a conference room, although Odin’s chair is still raised on a low dais to signify that he’s in charge of proceedings.

 

 

   Fury’s certainly wearing the same look he usually gives Steve and the others during debriefings. He’s also speaking.

 

 

   “...all due respect, I can’t spare my team leader.”

 

 

   He sounds firm, decisive, reasonable. Odin watches him inscrutably, rubs his beard with a thoughtful index finger, and says,

 

 

   “He may return to you by Thor’s side, when needed. He would not be lost to you,” as if offering a sound prospect, and Fury’s face spasms as if he’s barely holding in an outburst.

 

 

   “Thor’s help is appreciated, but he doesn’t always join us when we mobilise – he has other commitments here, we know. That doesn’t change the fact that travelling back and forth between Earth and Asgard is unreliable at best. There’d be no guarantee that the Captain could always be reached in time, and that’s not acceptable to us,” he says, with careful patience, and Odin tilts his head imperiously.

 

 

   “Your Captain’s behaviour in my halls is unacceptable to me, Director,” he states, an inflexible and hard reminder, and Steve suddenly notices Coulson, standing just behind Fury, usually blank expression tinged with unhappy tension.

 

 

   “I realise that,” Fury replies, with a certain amount of deference,

 

 

   “But surely we can find a solution to this that doesn’t involve me losing my team leader. If he has to come here, that’s going to be a real problem for us.”

 

 

   “Do you suggest I send my only other child to Midgard? Is it not enough that my eldest spends too few of his days here, with his people, in order to fight for your cause? Must I lose my youngest to it also?” Odin asks, a reproachful, almost mournful note to his words, and Steve can all but see Fury grinding his teeth.

 

 

   “We’re very grateful to Thor for everything he’s done for us, and to you for allowing him the opportunity to join us,” he grates,

 

 

   “He’s been an invaluable member of our team, and we’d be very sorry to lose him. I’m confident that if Loki returned to Earth with us, we’d be just as glad to have him.”

 

 

   Odin watches Fury for just a beat too long, it seems, as if considering what he’s proposing, and before he opens his mouth to reply, Frigga has stepped forward and is addressing Fury angrily.

 

 

   “You would not only take my child from me and wed him to a pauper, but have him serve under you as a common soldier? This I will not allow. That Thor has sworn an oath to protect Midgard and chooses to ally with you I can accept, but Loki’s duty is to Asgard and to his father – that they should both be absent for the sake of your cause is a thing I cannot permit!” she insists, voice clear and hard and ringing about the room like a hammer striking to straighten out a bent sword.

 

 

   Freyja’s hand strokes a soothing line down Steve’s arm at the sideways insult to him, but Steve doesn’t care at this point. He knows he’s fairly worthless in the eyes of Loki’s parents, and it doesn’t upset him to have them refer to him like that. He’s far more interested in the rest of the conversation, and how it’s progressing.

 

 

   “Your Highness,” Fury begins, placating, but Frigga holds up a hand to silence him and turns to face her husband, seething.

 

 

   “You would allow this? You would give them my last child, to use as they will?” she demands, flinging it at Odin like an insult and a challenge, and he bows his head slightly to acknowledge her words.

 

 

   “Peace, my Queen,” he rumbles, in a way that makes Steve for the first time realise that this is Thor’s father – and how strange it is that he can see nothing of Loki in either of them, in manner or face – and spears Fury with a calculating look.

 

 

   “Should I allow my son to follow you to Midgard as your Captain’s mate, I would not be placing him among your ranks to follow you. I would be placing him on the throne of your Realm, long-vacated though it has been,” he proclaims, and Fury’s brow furrows deeply.

 

 

   “I can’t make that happen,” he says slowly, as if trying to be sure he’s accurately following Odin’s meaning,

 

 

   “That’s not how things work on Earth.”

 

 

   “So you would have him follow you there to languish in obscurity, his only chance at renown whatever deeds he might accomplish as part of your _team?_ ” Frigga calls, clear contempt in her tone and stance, and Fury appears to swallow some colourful language before replying,

 

 

   “If Loki comes to Earth with us as the Captain’s... husband... he’d be more than welcome to join The Avengers, if he wants to. I can’t make him King of anything, but there’d be no escaping a certain amount of notoriety if the public got wind of his connection to the Captain, and even without that, any brother of Thor’s is going to get a lot of attention from the people.”

 

 

   Steve for some reason really can’t see Loki appreciating the way that particular statement is worded – nor can he envision Loki dealing with being in the public eye as ‘Captain America’s husband’ very well.

 

 

   Frigga seems to find the idea unsatisfactory as well, because she utters a sharp sound of disdainful scorn, which for all Steve knows could be an exclamation in Asgardian that he just doesn’t understand, and throws a hand in the air as if issuing an order.

 

 

   “I say have him pay in blood for his misdeeds, for there exists nothing on Midgard worth the price of a child of Odin and so nothing worth the price of honour lost to our House!” she declares, fiercely proud, and Steve thinks he sees a glimmer of Loki’s dignity in her carriage, although it is perhaps less an inherited trait and simply more part and parcel of their positions in this deeply strange society.

 

 

   “Thor has spoken against it,” Odin states, as if reminding her, though also as if he understands her views and has no thought to chastise her for them,

 

 

   “We shall begin no feud with Midgard and its protectors.”

 

 

   Fury seems to settle into himself a little, in the closest thing to relief Steve has ever seen in him, where mere seconds before he seemed poised to take action of some kind, and he bows his head.

 

 

   “We appreciate that,” he says truthfully, and Odin casts a scrutinising eye over him and says, quite calmly,

 

 

   “No blood shall be spilt, this or any other day, that disturbs the peace which exists between our Realms. However, a price must still be paid, if honour is to be restored and my son to follow you to Midgard for your convenience. We have been lenient. We will choose to accommodate your wish to keep your Captain on Midgard, if you can swear that my son’s position as your Captain’s spouse shall be uncontested and known to all, and you can present to me adequate restitution for the loss of my youngest child.”

 

 

   “You don’t seem to think we’ve got anything on Earth that’d be worth much to you,” Fury says a little warily, and Frigga interjects in a hard and final tone,

 

 

   “Nothing to equal the value of a Prince of Asgard to his King, or his Mother.”

 

 

   Fury doesn’t respond to that, but he does continue with a little more care,

 

 

   “Our organisation has certain resources, but there’s a definite limit to what we can part with, and as I understand it, we’re talking more than one payment here. We can make the fact that they’re married as public as you want it, but what would you accept in return for us keeping the Captain?”

 

 

   Steve notices that Fury very definitely avoids adding anything about Loki joining them on Earth, and he’s mildly upset by that if only because he’s getting the distinct impression that Fury really is starting to see the whole prospect as a total loss to S.H.I.E.L.D and to Earth, and that he’s only paying minimal lip service to how great it’d be to have Loki on their side so as not to cause greater offence.

 

 

   That’s not really entirely fair. If nothing else, Loki’s vanishing trick could come in pretty damn useful, and Steve’s sure he has numerous other skills he could bring to the table –

 

 

   And then he realises he’s getting ahead of himself, and that in all likelihood Fury’s written Loki off as the bane of his existence at present because he strongly suspects that Loki will refuse to have anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D.

 

 

   Fury’s decided he’s bargaining to keep an asset and that he’ll lose out on the deal either way. He’s not at all seeing it as an opportunity to potentially swell the ranks of The Avengers with an additional, highly capable member, or even part-time ally.

 

 

   Steve suddenly wonders how much Fury is prepared to pay to keep him on Earth, and feels rather more uncomfortable about this eavesdropping business than he did before.

 

 

   Odin beckons to one of the four guards standing behind him, and orders,

 

 

   “Bring Thor to us.”

 

 

   Steve sees the guard leave and glances round to check if the Vanir are watching, and Freyja leans into his side and whispers,

 

 

   “So begin the negotiations proper. You will not wish to see this.”

 

 

   “But – ” he protests, but Freyr holds up a hand and nods to Steve.

 

 

   “They decide his fate,” he murmurs softly,

 

 

   “Can we deny him this part in it?”

 

 

   Freyja’s lips twitch in displeasure and a hint of tears seems to gather at the corners of her eyes, but she holds her brother’s gaze and finally, sighs her defeat.

 

 

   “It is cruel,” she insists quietly, stroking Steve’s arm gently, and Freyr places his hand over hers briefly.

 

 

   “The cruelty is not of our making,” he replies,

 

 

   “We seek to right what we may.”

 

 

   Despite the clear argument in Freyja’s face, she doesn’t voice it, and Steve feels compelled to say,

 

 

   “Loki should hear this. It’s not fair to him, what they’re doing,” but Freyr just smiles rather grimly.

 

 

   “I do not doubt the Prince will hear of all that is done here today. Your concern is a credit to you, but it is misplaced,” he tells Steve kindly, and Steve frowns.

 

 

   “I disagree,” he says shortly, and Freyja squeezes his arm a little, smiling.

 

 

   “We expect it of you,” is all she says, and then she turns her head to observe the party in the room beyond once more, just as Thor strides through the doors, a disgruntled look on his usually cheerful face.

 

 

   “Mother, All-Father,” he greets them, solemn reverence in his tone as he bows his head, and then he turns to Fury and Coulson and nods,

 

 

   “Director, son of Coul.”

 

 

   “Thor,” Fury acknowledges, with a great deal more respect than he usually employs around Thor, who despite his status in Asgard and occasional heavy-handed reference to it, no longer receives any special treatment from the Director, who has reached a point where he gladly reads Thor the riot act just as well as he does the others when screw-ups have been afoot.

 

 

   “You summoned me, Father,” Thor directs towards Odin, who waves a hand to his eldest son to make him approach and stand a little closer to his family. Thor moves seemingly without a second thought, and while he’s not standing on the opposite side of the table, he’s still two thirds of the way over towards his father and mother and away from Fury and Coulson.

 

 

   It’s a masterful, if purposely obvious, show of power that Steve has to grudgingly admire, and a blatant reminder to Fury that here, in this place, Odin reigns supreme and that his word is a law that supersedes anything Fury might have to say as well as any loyalty Thor might feel to S.H.I.E.L.D or Earth.

 

 

   “I summon you to take part in the negotiations for your brother’s hand, my son,” Odin replies, and again, Steve notices the weight placed on the family connection and can’t help but think that all Thor’s talk of blood bonds and their ultimate paramount importance has a very definite source.

 

 

   “I would have you tell me whether you believe there to be anything of a value on Midgard to equal that of your brother to Asgard, and to us,” he continues, and it’s entirely transparent how difficult a question this is for Thor to weigh and answer, completely explaining why his reply is so laboured.

 

 

   “My brother’s value cannot be measured in gold or lands, Father. I cannot say if there is a thing on Midgard as precious as Loki is to us,” he tries, and Odin’s brow furrows in clear fatherly disapproval.

 

 

   “All this time spent in Midgard, devoting yourself to the study and protection of it, and you cannot tell me what I wish to know from you?” he demands, and Steve would say that Thor fidgets unhappily if it were possible for so large and imposing a man to do any such thing.

 

 

   Instead, Thor shifts his stance in discomfort and grips his hammer more tightly where it hangs from his belt, and glances towards his mother, whose expression is smooth, cool expectancy.

 

 

   “I do not know how to measure Loki’s worth,” he says uncomfortably, and his gaze flickers towards Fury even as Odin’s frown deepens and he leans forward slightly, creating the impression of looming over the room at large.

 

 

   “It is asked of you,” Odin says firmly,

 

 

   “By your Father and your King.”

 

 

   It seems to be exactly the kind of blow required to push Thor’s floodgates open, because Thor licks his lips once before offering,

 

 

   “They possess the Tesseract. It was unearthed after the Captain was lost to the ice.”

 

 

   “We knew of this,” Odin says dismissively, surprising Steve somewhat, and gesturing expansively with one uncaring hand,

 

 

   “Would you have them return Asgardian property to us and call it payment for a royal son of Asgard? Does that seem to you a fitting thing?”

 

 

   Steve can practically see Thor squirm as he tries to work out the correct answer to what Steve personally suspects is a trick question.

 

 

   “It is a start,” Thor tries,

 

 

   “The Tesseract belongs in Asgard, though the mortals have been studying it for their own purposes.”

 

 

   “It has been allowed,” Odin points out,

 

 

   “Their studies have so far been fruitless.”

 

 

   “How the hell do you know that?” Fury demands, apparently forgetting himself for a moment, and Odin’s glance in his direction is just shy of contemptuous.

 

 

   “The All-Father sees all,” Thor says, by way of half-hearted explanation although it’s clear from his tone that he believes it entirely and is a little sick of continually reminding Midgardians of this irrefutable fact.

 

 

   “It has been necessary to watch your progress in the matter. You do not understand the Tesseract as we do. It will be little use to your kind without our guidance, and we cannot trust that it will be used wisely in your care should you be successful in your endeavours. So far, your ignorance has protected you from the worst consequences of its presence in your Realm,” Odin lays out, sounding rather as if this is utterly trivial to him and he’s bored with having to explain to the mortals that the magic cube is useless to them because they’re just not clever enough to know what to do with it.

 

 

   In that, Steve sees rather a lot of Odin in Thor, and he’s not sure he likes it.

 

 

   “Well, maybe we’d get somewhere if we had a little help,” Fury retorts, and Thor seems to brighten.

 

 

   “Loki might be of some aid to you in this,” he begins, but Odin rises quite suddenly, and it’s as though he fills the room, the light dimming and his voice thundering in a way that Thor’s has never managed as he roars,

 

 

   “ ** _Be silent!_** ”

 

 

   Steve sees Coulson’s hand twitch towards his side-arm, sees Thor immediately straighten his back and snap his gaze to the floor, and Odin’s words are ominous and dark as he points his spear at his son and booms,

 

 

   “I bring you before me to negotiate a price for your brother’s hand, as restitution for the honour of our house that has been lost – I do this because _you_ oppose the paying of a blood fine for the insult given – and you would seek to name the price a thing which rightfully belongs to Asgard and has ever done so, and then as if that were not shame enough, you offer the aid of your brother to give these mortals greater understanding of the very same thing, that it might be of better use to them?”

 

 

   The mortified flush creeping into Thor’s cheeks makes Steve wince, but Odin’s not finished yet, and he makes a sweeping gesture with his spear and tilts his chin at his eldest son as he accuses,

 

 

   “Is this who shall rule after me? An untried boy who cannot even serve his King and Father in making an appropriate match for his own brother?”

 

 

   The rhetorical questions clearly find their mark as Thor droops in his place, and he keeps his head down while Odin turns to Frigga as if addressing her and holds out his spear in the direction of their son.

 

 

   “All the land of Asgard I gifted to your mother on the morning after our wedding,” he states harshly,

 

 

   “Yet you would barter her youngest son away for an artefact that is already Asgardian property, while promising Loki’s labour to your allies on Midgard as if the burden of payment lay at our feet!”

 

 

   “No, Father,” Thor replies in a small, contrite voice, apparently cowed but used enough to his father’s ways that he recognises when he is allowed to respond,

 

 

   “I spoke without thought. Forgive me.”

 

 

   Odin doesn’t seem too quick to do any such thing, and he remains standing, planting the butt of his spear audibly on the dais as he watches Thor critically.

 

 

   “I have made it known to the Director that should we allow Loki to follow his mate to Midgard, it shall be on the condition that the marriage be acknowledged by all, and on the understanding that I shall be placing Loki on the throne of Midgard to keep it and watch over it,” he reveals, and Thor’s head jerks up, a horrified look on his face as he blurts out,

 

 

   “Father, _no!_ You cannot do this – Midgard _has_ no throne – it is under my protection, _I_ keep it!”

 

 

   By the sharpening of Odin’s eye Steve can tell that this is exactly the outcome he wanted, and Odin lifts his eyebrow in warning and says,

 

 

   “You question me?”

 

 

   Thor subsides, hesitating, but ultimately he forges onward, apparently too caught up in his dismay over his father’s proclamation to realise he’s digging his own grave.

 

 

   “I do! I am pledged to protect Midgard and I tell you that it needs no other – why give it to Loki when it has needed no ruler these many years past? The Midgardians will not accept it, we have been absent too long to reclaim a throne that has gone so long unneeded!” he cries, and Odin’s expression changes to a sharp, judging thing.

 

 

   “Are you not to be King of Asgard, Thunderer?” he demands, and Thor seems taken aback but rallies quickly, replying,

 

 

   “Yes, but – ”

 

 

   “And are you not to sit at the Crown of the World Tree in my stead, as I do now, ruler of all?” Odin interrupts, and Thor hesitates again, response less sure now when he replies,

 

 

   “I am, Father, but – ”

 

 

   “And would you not say that these past years, Midgard has been brought to the attentions of Asgard, and of other Realms, to greater extent than it has been able to withstand alone?”

 

 

   Something of the direction Odin’s going in appears to be dawning on Thor, but it’s as clear as day to Steve that he’s not quite buying into the seriousness of it as he says,

 

 

   “That is so, Father, but I still do not see – ”

 

 

   “No, you do _not_ see. Your vision is clouded by your own desires, where a true King must discern the fullness of things regardless of what he himself may want or wish to dwell upon,” Odin says sternly,

 

 

   “Midgard is coming into its own. It is no longer ignorant of all that is, and it draws eyes to it that it ought not. You are correct in that too long have we waited to assert our rule of it – to show the other Realms that Asgard watches there as ever it has – but that will change, as it must.”

 

 

   “But I’m – ” Thor begins, and Odin holds up a warning hand.

 

 

   “Think you that your pledge is enough to discourage all that might seek to take advantage of the weakest of all the Realms under us? Your presence in Midgard is inconstant, your responsibilities to Asgard far more urgent than any vow you have made to fight alongside these mortals when they have need of allies,” Odin reminds him in a cautioning tone, and Thor sets his jaw stubbornly.

 

 

   “I have fought alongside the mortals of Midgard to defend their Realm. We have not yet been bested,” he insists, a note of pride in his voice, and Odin frowns at him.

 

 

   “Minor conflicts,” he counters,

 

 

   “And what of the long term? What of the time that will come soon enough when the Thunderer cannot be spared – when you must take up your duty as King here? What then shall become of Midgard, which grows in notoriety too quickly to safeguard from all threats?”

 

 

   “And you think placing Loki there will protect against coming threats?” Thor demands, as if the idea is ridiculous, and Odin stares him down.

 

 

   “I know that a constant presence is always far better than even the frequent visits of a powerful ally,” he replies with finality.

 

 

   Thor visibly bites his tongue and remains silent, and Odin addresses Fury once more.

 

 

   “All the land of Asgard I presented to my Queen as her morning-gift upon our union,” he says clearly,

 

 

   “And since there is nothing on Midgard beyond what is already the property of Asgard to offer against my son, and you desire above all things to keep your Captain on Midgard so that he may be of use to you, the land which you seek to protect shall be part of the price asked.”

 

 

   He draws himself up, lifts his spear and hefts it in an official sort of manner.  

 

 

   “Loki shall not touch the Tesseract. Thor shall retrieve it and present it to us, as first payment, the restitution asked. Once the mundr has been paid in this way, the wedding shall stand, and on the following day, your Captain shall present to Loki his morning-gift – all the land of Midgard, in name,” Odin proclaims,

 

 

   “These are the terms we lay down to be met if you wish my son to follow you to Midgard as your Captain’s spouse.”

 

 

   “Look, like I said, we can make the fact that they’re married as public as you want, but this business of declaring Loki King of Earth, that’s not doable,” Fury insists firmly, and Odin inclines his head slightly.

 

 

   “We are aware of this. It would be a symbolic gesture on your part. It matters not whether the mortals of Midgard know of it, it matters only that the words are spoken by your Captain as a representative of Midgard, to ensure the sealing of this part of the contract. What matters is that your Midgardians know that our son has wedded your Captain, and that the other Realms know that Loki of Asgard now sits on the throne of Midgard,” he replies reasonably, and Fury hesitates for a moment.

 

 

   “Exactly what would that mean, for Earth? Loki being King. We’re not throwing him any parades or building any throne-rooms,” he says inflexibly, and Odin raises an eyebrow.

 

 

   “That will not be required of you. You may even continue to call him Prince, if you judge that it will be better received by your people. Loki’s kingship will secure Midgard’s standing among the other Realms and lend legitimacy to the presence of Asgard on your soil. Those who would threaten Midgard will be less quick to do so if they know that a son of Odin presides over it,” he responds rather as if he’s explaining things to someone who needs to have the information and how it benefits them spoon-fed.

 

 

   At Thor’s starting forward as if to speak, Odin overrides anything he might have wanted to say with a very hard,

 

 

   “A son of Odin who is not bound to another throne,” and Thor clamps his mouth shut and settles for glaring at the floor.

 

 

   “Thor,” Frigga says, commanding her eldest’s instant attention with the undeniable authority of her voice, but Steve does not understand what she says to Thor next, the words strange and harsh to his ears, and Freyja jostles against him a little and murmurs,

 

 

   “Asgardian. The queen asks if the Thunderer would begrudge his brother some ties to the Realm that is to be his wedded home.”

 

 

   It gives the challenging expression on Frigga’s face and the ashamed, chastised look on Thor’s face as well as the way he mumbles something that appears to be in the negative meaning as Steve observes the scene, and he nods thanks to the Vanir goddess at his side, who just smiles back.

 

 

   “We understand there’s a third payment that bears mentioning – one that follows Loki to Earth with us, if we agree to your terms,” Fury says, and Odin nods.

 

 

   “That is so. The heiman fylgia, Loki’s accompaniment. The laws which surround the giving of it have been explained to you, so you will know that it is for the maintenance of Loki while he resides with his spouse. Loki’s spouse will keep and administer it according to his needs at Loki’s discretion,” he expounds, and Fury nods.

 

 

   “We understand that, we just need to know whether Loki would be bringing anything to Earth as part of this... heimain fylgia... that we need to know about,” he replies reasonably, and Frigga steps forward.

 

 

   “The matter of the heiman fylgia is between Loki and his family, and Loki and his spouse. It is not for you to concern yourselves with,” she states imperiously, and Fury folds his hands behind him.

 

 

   “That’s as may be, your highness, but if Loki’s going to be bringing anything potentially dangerous to Earth, it’s best we know,” he attempts.

 

 

   “There will be a quantity of gold,” Odin says dismissively,

 

 

   “Possessions, and the like. Loki will want for nothing. That is the purpose of the heiman fylgia.”

 

 

   “Since we are giving our child to a mere soldier,” Frigga remarks scathingly, and Odin nods sagely.

 

 

   “We must be sure that our son has all that he needs to begin a new life on Midgard,” he agrees, before his eye sharpens again and he continues,

 

 

   “That is, if you agree to our terms and we are not forced to demand that your Captain join us here instead.”

 

 

   The internal processes of Fury’s mind as he weighs all that’s been said and everything that’s on the table are not visible to Steve, but he’s pretty damn sure that Fury’s predominantly trying to decide whether keeping Steve on Earth is worth all this aggravation and paperwork and losing the potential uses of the Tesseract before they’d even really begun to explore what those uses could be, as well as the media nightmare that will be Captain America bringing back an alien prince as a husband.

 

 

   Steve _really_ hopes that he is.

 

 

   Finally, after Steve’s palms are aching with how hard he’s clenched his hands and it seems the furrows in Fury’s brow can be etched no deeper, Fury unfolds his arms and says,

 

 

   “Alright then. We accept your terms.”

 

 

   There is a heavy, resigned undertone to his defiance, but Odin merely nods and replies,

 

 

   “That is good. Thor will retrieve the Tesseract while we inform Loki, and we shall see this contract witnessed before the day is out.”

 

 

   “As quickly as possible would be good,” Fury comments,

 

 

   “I’ve got an organisation to run and we need to start laying the ground work for the big announcement.”

 

 

   Frigga’s expression grows stony and cold, and she leaves Odin’s side to grasp Thor’s arm and pull him with her to the doors.

 

 

   “I shall send Thor to Heimdall at once,” she informs them all, releasing Thor and practically propelling him out of the room, adding with undeniable contempt and venom,

 

 

   “And _I_ shall inform my child of what has been agreed upon. It should not take long, _Director_ , nor should the wedding. No grand ceremony for the marriage of Odin’s youngest son.”

 

 

   No one says a word as she sweeps from the room, driving Thor along before her like she’s herding a particularly large and difficult sheep, and Freyr places a hand on Steve’s shoulder as the wall loses its glasslike quality, and the Vanir siblings pull Steve away gently.

 

 

   “You seem distressed,” Freyja points out, and Steve shakes his head, surprising himself when a nervous laugh tumbles out of him.

 

 

   “I – I guess I’m relieved... I think,” he replies, feeling a smile settle on his face that he doesn’t know how to remove.

 

 

   “The Queen wants to kill me,” he adds, because it seems like the one certain thing he’s seen during the entire awful business of these negotiations, and Freyr nods, eyes widening.

 

 

   “If there is love at all to be found in Asgard for the youngest Prince, it is to be found in the Queen,” he agrees, and his sister nods as well.

 

 

   “Little wonder she would rather Thor had not spoken in your defence,” Freyja remarks, and Steve rubs his eyes wearily.

 

 

   “I just... They _really_ don’t want Loki to marry me, but it looks like they’re doing what they can with it, and _Loki_ really doesn’t want to marry me, and I really don’t want to marry _him_ – if it wasn’t for Thor, this wouldn’t be happening,” he says, exhausted and just voicing a train of thought because there's not enough space in his head suddenly to contain everything he's thinking and feeling, and Freyja tilts her head as if absorbing Steve’s words, and then says,

 

 

   “You are right. But were it not for Thor, you would be executed. Is this not preferable?”

 

 

   Something creeps along the floor and shimmers over the walls, and Steve’s question is just forming on his lips when what feels like a hefty electric shock snaps through him – and the Vanir, as far as Steve can see – and an inarticulate and improbably amplified howl of rage echoes down the hall leaving Steve’s ears ringing so badly it smarts.

 

 

   Freyja steadies Steve with a surprisingly strong hand and reaches for her brother, and Freyr meets her gaze unhappily until it passes.

 

 

   “It is not preferable,” he says simply, and Freyja glances around quickly and then grasps Steve’s arm firmly, tugging him away as her brother follows with quick steps.

 

 

   “What’s going on?” Steve asks, bewildered,

 

 

   “What’s happening?”

 

 

   “The royal apartments are not far from here and you should be further from them,” Freyr murmurs hastily, and Steve digs his heels in and resists, demanding,

 

 

   “Why? What was that?”

 

 

   “ _Loki_ ,” the Vanir intone together, and suddenly Steve doesn’t need to be pulled along to pick up the pace and keep up.

 

 

 


End file.
